Hurt
by isyourcermetgoingtogrow
Summary: 15 year old Carlisle Cullen had been called many things, most of them too unspeakable to repeat. Abused and unloved by his own family, bullied by his "friends", unable to fit in, struggling with an eating disorder and mental illness, will he ever be able to find happiness? M for language, violence and suicidal thoughts/self harm. All human


**I DID A BAD THING! I STARTED A NEW STORY! Also this is my first attempt at writing in third person so I'm sorry for anything that isn't right.**

 **A/N: So all the characters in this are human and in high school.**

William Cullen listened to his son's soft footsteps as he made his way up the front step, his arms folded tightly across his chest. "Carlisle," he called coldly the minute his key turned in the lock.  
"Y-yes father..?" he stammered quietly, leaning on the doorframe to shield himself from his father's gaze as much as steady himself. The boy was nauseated with lack of food, his stomach cramping every few seconds from hunger. But he wouldn't eat, not even if his father let him; he knew he was already overweight. He didn't need to make that worse.  
The older man looked him up and down, as if reading his thought. "You're fat. You've been eating without my permission." It wasn't a question, he knew.  
"N-no, dad, I-I wouldn't disobey y-you," he disagreed in a whisper.  
"LIAR!" his hand whipped out from his side and stuck the boy across the face, leaving a red welt. He grabbed him by the neck and dragged him to the bathroom, kicking his legs so he fell beside the toilet. He then proceeded to jam his fingers down his throat, shoving his head into the toilet bowl as nothing but stomach acid rushed up his throat.  
Carlisle reused to cry no matter how badly his head throbbed and his mouth burnt. Soon his father would throw him into his room and leave him there, he knew that. He trusted that. It brought him hope.  
Sure enough, he pushed him into his bedroom – if you could call it that. In reality, it was a small cellar in the basement, 6x6 feet lined potato sacks and only a thin blanket to fight off the cold the snow brought. Although it would have been hell for any other person, it was a sanctuary for Carlisle, the only place where he could predict the direction in which his perpetrators came.  
"Don't you dare set foot out of here until I tell you, you hear me, boy?" he spat, kicking him in the ribs as he threw him into it.  
He nodded dizzily in reply, already starting to pass out into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, Carlisle crept from his bed long before his father awoke from his alcohol induced coma, sneaking into the bathroom to shower and be ready from school. William denied him hot water, and only turned it on for his own use, but it was still something Carlisle loved; scrubbing his skin until it was raw as if he could scrub away the sins the world accused him of. Glancing in the mirror, he sighed in defeat, hurt bubbling in his chest. He was fat. His father was right. It wasn't fair! He didn't eat! How could he possibly be fat?  
Holding back tears, he crouched over the toilet and forced himself to gag, but without anything to bring up, all it did was strain his stomach. It wasn't fair. To stop the cramps he swallowed as much water as he possible could; if he could just concentrate, he could get to medical school and get away from his father. He wouldn't even have to be Carlisle anymore if he didn't want to.  
Homework was a struggle; he had to do any assignments between waking up and leaving in the morning, but he usually got it done. If not, a few frantic hours in the library generally solved the problem…not that his father took kindly to that.  
William feared Carlisle leaving for university. He didn't know how he would cope without his troublesome boy. He needed him. He relied on him.

Walking the five miles to and from school was one of the scariest parts of the day for the young boy. They lived in a rough part of London and muggings were common, as were assaults. Once he reached school, his odds weren't much better. Bullies preyed on timid little Carlisle, calling him every name they could think of, using every taunt. At first it hadn't made much difference to him compared to what his father put him through, however over time the daily punishments they created got under his skin and started to sting.

"Hey, Faggot," Aro sneered, knocking his books onto the floor as he passed. Carlisle waited until he passed to pick them up again, he knew the consequences otherwise. But today was different; the older boy stayed leaning over the back over his chair.  
Carlisle nervously glanced up at him, squirming where he sat.  
"What the fuck are you looking at?" he spat.  
He shook his head and reached down to collect his things. As usual, this resulted in Aro throwing him from his seat, and Carlisle landing on his hands and knees on the ground. While he was down, the other boy kicked him hard in his already bruised ribs, forcing a strangled cough out of him.  
By now, a large percentage of the class was giggling, amused by his struggle. None of them liked the strange boy; he didn't fit in. He was a junior while they were seniors; he'd just been raised a few classes once his teachers discovered his capabilities.  
He climbed back to his seat without another sound, ignoring Aro still looming over him.  
"See you at lunch." Whipping a ruler out from behind his back, he brought it down across the backs of his hands, leaving red marks.

"Avoiding me, huh?" He slammed him against his locker, Carlisle hitting his head hard against the metal with stars swimming in his vision.  
"N-no," he whispered, not in answer to his question like Aro thought, but a desperate plea for him to leave him alone.  
He punched him in the face, his fist cracking against his chin. "Shut up, fuckface, did I tell you to speak?" His hands pressed into his throat, cutting off his air.  
Aro's friends surrounded him, more intimidating than ever. Their leader dropped him onto the ground just before he passed out, watching with glee as he sucked in tortured gasps of air. "Get up." He dragged him to his feet and outside into the courtyard. His eyes were cold and hard, and for the first time Carlisle was genuinely scared of him.  
He tried to run, fear pushing him forward as he tried to bolt away. Something about this attack was different; it was serious. Aro was too strong, and once his grasp was broken he fell into the arms of Felix. He locked him in a chokehold, beginning to drag him from the school grounds.  
The stronger boy pulled him through the forest, trailed by the others, and toward the creek. He easily tossed him into the muddy water, wearing the same angry glint as Aro.  
Carlisle screamed for the first time in years, terrified now. Adrenaline pulsing through his veins, he feared for his life. It only resulted in another blow.  
"Don't speak," he demanded, shoving him under the water, his foot against the back of his head to hold him under.

He couldn't stand it any longer; his lungs burnt and his vision was fading. He sucked in a sharp breath of what should have been air, drawing a thick mixture of silt and lumpy fluid into his lungs. He vomited immediately, the liquid in his stomach rushing up as well.  
Suddenly the pressure was gone and he was lying there alone. He choked and gagged until he could breathe again, shaking and freezing. His legs felt weak as he struggled to his feet, stumbling back toward school. He couldn't go home. Not like this. And there was nowhere else for him to go.

Carlisle washed his hands and face in the bathrooms, washing himself clean as much as possible, but he was still frozen, soaking wet and miserable. When the door opened, he rushed and hid in one of the cubicals, almost paralysed with the fear of being targeted again. He sat on the floor and hugging his legs, trying to squeeze some warmth back into his body, resting his chin on his legs. His injuries were starting to swell now, and he felt incredibly dizzy. It was hard to breathe and he just wanted to go to sleep.  
The ones that entered were a couple, waging class in order to be alone together. Heidi hugged Demetri tightly, hungrily pressing her mouth against his. "I love you," she giggled. "Do you love me?"  
"Of course I do!" he answered quickly.  
Of all the things that had happened to him that day, it was those words that pushed tears from Carlisle. He pressed his hand over his mouth to smother a sob but couldn't stop his body shaking. Nobody had ever loved him, he knew that. His mother had died giving birth to him, his father hated him, he had no other family and he'd never had a friend or girlfriend. Of all the things he wanted most in the world, he wanted someone to love him.


End file.
